


Cold As Ice

by orphan_account



Category: Bleach
Genre: 5000-10000 Words, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Angst, F/M, Minor Violence, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2006-01-14
Updated: 2006-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-05 23:14:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A different take on the Renji/Rukia pairing, in a completely AU setting. It's not based on any one specific historical time period but contains elements of several. Set in China. Steam trains, bars, fedoras, and a ship. INCOMPLETE.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold As Ice

**Author's Note:**

> It's debatable how in-character Renji is, but damn, it's pretty hard to write him into this setting. Also, I wrote this story skipping around a lot, so if there's major gaps between scenes, it's probably because I meant to come back later and add in a transition scene but never did.

The phenomenon known as ‘snow’ still astounded all his senses each time he encountered it. Even now, as he observed the landscape that had been blanketed by the white powdery substance from behind a thick and solid pane of glass, it had succeeded in taking his breath away. Though he himself had a soul that was made of fire, he had a deep respect for snow and ice. It spoke to him of quiet resolve, a determined and stalwart force to be reckoned with that would not yield easily to the whim of a mere passer-by. It stopped at nothing to dominate the world during its time; even the local inhabitants who had combated the winter this way for centuries were still at its mercy, and an unusually powerful blizzard could easily disrupt the way of life that had been built up over decades.

Yet, in the end, all snow and ice was made to melt: to yield to fire if not to springtime.

Grinning to himself, Abarai Renji moved away from the window and returned to his booth on the steam train.

***

“Rukia, please stop playing with the curtains,” Lord Byakuya commanded stoically from the fancy French armchair on which he was seated.

“But, nii-sama,” the younger girl tried to argue, her ennui obvious from the lilting whine of her voice, “what else am I to do? There’s nothing to do on this train, and there’s still four hours ‘til we arrive in Suzhou.”

Lord Byakuya did not respond. His eyes, as always, were half-lidded, head resting on the back of one hand as he ignored, rather than observed, the world around him. The cravat around his neck had only been slightly loosened as he lounged in his immaculate white dress shirt, black trousers, dark plum-hued brocade overcoat, and black leather loafers. This image of wealth and splendor was only slightly marred by the three odd silver hair curlers placed in the long and smooth black ocean that was his hair. ‘_Kenseikan_,’ he would always argue, to no avail.

When he finally noticed Rukia still staring at him expectantly, he replied, with an air of annoyance, “Go walk about the train, then. But do not get yourself into any trouble.”

Rukia was overjoyed and only barely able to hide the gleeful smile that spread its warmth across her features as she bowed in acknowledgement to her older brother and turned to leave their private first-class car.

It was the opportunity she had been waiting for all day.

***

Meanwhile, Renji, bored with the two other occupants with whom he shared a booth in one of the second-class cars because one refused to avert his attention from the newspaper he clutched in his hand and the other was fast asleep, snoring obnoxiously, had made his way to the part of the dining car that housed a small bar. Seated upon one of the stools, he had ordered himself a whiskey, but upon receiving his drink from the taciturn bartender, he had immediately gotten up again and walked over to the window. As much as he enjoyed the luxuriousness of the train, he was a free spirit, and being cooped up in a train car for the better part of one night and one day was beginning to put him ill at ease. He longed for fresh air, and for wide open spaces. And most of all, he longed for some action.

Excitement.

Still holding his whiskey glass in one hand, he slipped the other under his dark brown leather coat, absent-mindedly patting the chrome-plated handgun that was holstered there. By profession, Abarai Renji was a bounty hunter. One of the best. His name was well-known in the underground. However, he’d been away from the old familiar circles for quite a while now. He’d been freelancing for a while, tracking down and killing a few opium bosses on the China mainland to send their rich smuggling businesses into mayhem. He’d managed to make quite a bit of money by promising to leave the other executives alone for the right price, though the pay-off still wasn’t nearly as good as it was for a nice bounty kill. But then, the money had never truly been what drove him to the job anyway. He had simply grown bored with China and its opium moguls, content to leave them to the decadent Chinese government from now on. His last mission had taken him nigh to the borders of Russia, but the change of scenery had done nothing to appease him. Currently, he was tracking down one last informant-turned-traitor, and then he planned to leave China for good. He longed to see the shores of Japan—his home—again.

So engrossed in his private musings, he did not notice the slip of a girl who had emerged in the dining car, seating herself on the same bar stool he had just vacated.

“A gin tonic, please,” Rukia ordered.

At the sound of the somewhat husky female voice, Renji’s attention perked up, and he turned around to face the newcomer who had so quietly come in and taken his seat. Looking her up and down, his eyes moved from the expensive black leather Mary Janes, up the white silk stockings that ended in lace mid-thigh, breezing over the frilly petticoat that was slightly visible from under the wide but short black skirt, up the black velvet shirt with its dainty silver buttons and white collar. Over the pale, milky-white skin of her neck to the serious-set face that almost belied her youthfulness. Though the look in her midnight blue eyes suggested she was ancient, Renji easily guessed from her entire visage that the girl was probably about sixteen years old, except that she had the height of someone of about twelve.

“Aren’t you a bit young to be drinking?” he questioned, moving closer to catch her attention.

Turning to the stranger, Rukia observed Renji in a similar fashion: from the leather coat that was so dark that it could easily be mistaken as being black, to the belt that held up a pair of black suede pants, which were suspended across a black dress shirt. The blood-red tie was the only thing (aside from his own crimson hair, which was tied back in a long ponytail and whose roots were hidden by a black bandana) interrupting the utter darkness of his outfit, a darkness that mirrored that of her own.

“Aren’t you a bit young to be criticizing me yourself?” Rukia countered.

_Touché_. It was true that Renji was not _that_ much older than the girl. Still, “I’m twenty-one,” Renji responded smugly, as though that made all the difference, seating himself beside her.

“In times like these, age is no indicator of ability, wisdom, or experience,” Rukia rolled her eyes and replied indignantly. “You could have said you are forty and you could still be young at heart.”

Renji wavered between annoyance and amusement. “How old are you, then, to be spouting off such ‘wise words’, Miss?”

“I’m sixteen,” Rukia answered, allowing her noble upbringing to shine through her voice.

Renji laughed out loud at her response, breaking out in guffaws as he bent over his whiskey glass.

Rukia wasn’t quite sure how to respond. A little embarrassed, she just stared at her glass of gin, her fingers shaking just a little too much for her to confidently raise it to her face and drink from it.

“How dare you laugh at me with such condescendence?!” she finally turned and yelled as Renji’s laughter began to die down.

Swallowing another guffaw and pretending to wipe his face in order to hide a smirk, Renji answered, “Pardon me, Miss, but I wouldn’t be so worried about my response if I were you; it ought to be a forgettable occurrence, as you seem like the type of lady who is not condescended to often, if at all.”

_Touché_. “…You can tell?” Rukia asked nervously.

Renji nodded. “Your rich Edo accent, your expensive clothes, and even the way you hold your drink in your hand, with only your thumb, middle- and forefingers. You’re one of those would-be nobles in an age where rigid social hierarchies are falling out of fashion, a race of sorts that’s soon to become extinct.”

His criticism was so harsh, Rukia had trouble swallowing. She resumed her fixed gaze upon her drink. Renji could sense her discomfort.

“Ah, don’t take what I say so seriously, Miss,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “Anyway, we still haven’t been introduced. What’s your name?”

“Isn’t it conventional to state your own name before asking for the other person’s?” Rukia snapped, a little annoyed and not so eager to just forgive and forget his comments.

“Perhaps. But A, I care nothing for conventions,” was Renji’s curt response, and then he continued as he opened his coat to reveal his gun, “and B, depending on who you are, I’m not sure I can trust you enough to know my name.”

Rukia’s annoyance quickly grew to amazement and then fear at the sight of the gun. “K-k-k… Kuchiki Rukia,” she stammered, mouth hanging open slightly.

“I’m Abarai Renji.” The young man genially stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet ya!”

Used to bows or otherwise hand-kisses, Rukia wasn’t sure what to do with the outstretched hand. She finally touched his hand with her fingertips, hoping he would get the message and move to kiss the back of her palm. He didn’t. He grabbed her fingers and rather awkwardly shook her hand.

Rukia was thoroughly shaken up by the encounter, getting more confused each second. “I thought you couldn’t trust me enough to let me know your name.”

“I said that I _might_ not be able to trust you,” Renji corrected her, “but your name means nothing to me. I’ve never heard of any Kuchikis before.”

“You’ve never…” It might’ve been the gin, but Rukia was having a little trouble adding everything up. “But you were so quick to criticize me before. About my nobility and everything. You mean you said that without knowing…?”

“Oh, I know your kind,” Renji interjected. “But no, I don’t know anything about you.”

“Aren’t we being a little judgmental, then?” Rukia was growing snappish again.

Renji snickered, his laughter rolling from his throat like chocolate while his eyes sparkled ever so slightly. “Of course not. If I allowed my biases to govern me, I wouldn’t be speaking to you.”

Baffled again, Rukia was speechless. She had no earthly idea what to make of this unusual stranger.

Just then, the train sounded its whistle to announce a fuel stop at an intermediate station, indicating to the passengers that any who so desired could prepare to leave the train for a few minutes of fresh air before continuing. For a few passengers, this was also their final destination, though the majority would be continuing on to Suzhou.

Renji, who had reserved a place on a carriage from here to Beijing, was one of the few exceptions.

“Apologies, my lady, but I must be off,” Renji spoke as he stood up and paid the bartender for his drink. “I have enjoyed our conversation, though I doubt that we will have the pleasure of meeting again. As such, I hope that your life of luxury will continue to bring you joy. As for me, my greatest wish is only that I can be, as you said, ‘forty and still young at heart’.”

Tipping an imaginary hat in her direction, he winked, and with that, he was gone, disappeared into the night.

***

Though her chance encounter with Renji had brought unexpected excitement into Rukia’s life, afterward, she only grew more and more restless. Never before had she questioned the way she and her brother went about their business, but now that she had had a glimpse of the benefits of a carefree and laidback attitude, something inside her had awakened... something almost akin to a sense of rebelliousness.

Lord Byakuya wasn’t quite sure what to make of the sudden change in his younger sister’s demeanor. Ever since their parents’ death, he had gotten used to her accepting the decisions he made for the both of them without question. She would simply withdraw, following him wherever his travels took him but spending most of her time by herself. Yet now, out of the blue, she insisted on questioning him at every turn.

“Why are we only spending three days in Suzhou? Can’t we stay here for a week? Why won’t you go sightseeing with me?”

“Why do we have to go for tea at the Fongs’? Why is it necessary for us to spend so much time among dignitaries who couldn’t care less whether we lived or died?”

He chose to attribute it all to puberty, not realizing that his sister had completed that phase two years prior.

“Nii-sama! Haven’t you been spending enough time staring at yourself in the mirror now? Why won’t you answer me?!”

Lord Byakuya sighed. It was all _terribly_ exasperating.

***

Things weren’t going well for Renji, either, though for entirely different reasons. Only a day after he arrived in the city, he discovered that the report he had received that the informant was headed for Shanghai turned out to be false. The report had been intended to distract bounty hunters on his trail, and Renji was ashamed to say that, in his case, it had been an effective decoy. With no leads as to the informant’s actual whereabouts, he found himself stuck at various pubs and bars, night after night, squandering his money on drinks while hoping to pick up new tidbits of information.

It wasn’t until about a week later, when he’d been having sex with a prostitute, subtly interrogating her all the while, that he finally learned the information he’d been looking for. The woman, who was connected to a local crime syndicate, had heard rumors about some members of their circle being involved in helping a criminal go undercover among a wealthy family, whose goal was supposed to be a ship headed for Taipei by way of Shanghai. The criminal’s description matched that of the informant he was looking for. Renji was in business again.

_Man, if I’d known Shanghai was the actual destination, I could’ve just stayed on the train to Suzhou._

He left the prostitute without finishing what they’d been doing.

***

Right around the same time, ironically, Rukia, too, found herself at one of her brother’s many acquaintances’ estate in Shanghai. They had resided there for several days already, and, bored out of her mind, Rukia had finally resorted to walking around town in the pouring rain. Having barely survived a mugging, she was now laid up in her room with a fever, an ironic misadventure; whereas before she had at least been able to pace about her room or roam around the house, she was now bedridden.

When day finally descended into night, she was relieved; finally, she might be able to sleep off her sickness. It was nothing like her to have to lie in bed all day listening to nothing but her own thoughts.

Around 11 PM, her reveries were abruptly interrupted by the sound of gunfire in the garden outside. Rukia shot out of her bed and dashed to the window, but the air was too muggy to see anything through, and there were too many trees in the way.

For a good half hour, she barely dared to move from her spot beside the window. There seemed to be some sort of commotion inside the house now. Was her family being attacked? Would they come up here, looking for her? Should she try to escape through the window, or would it be safer inside?

… Too many questions, and she had not the courage to attempt to find the answers …

She had just opened the window and was busily debating whether or not to climb through and survey the situation outside when, with a loud crashing noise, the door to one of the other bedrooms on the same floor was apparently kicked in; she knew what it sounded like. It was quickly followed by the sound of several pairs of running footsteps. They were apparently searching the upstairs for something. Rukia stood frozen in place for what seemed like hours, too afraid even to breathe normally.

Finally, the footsteps receded down the stairs, and Rukia allowed herself to take a breath.

With a click, the door opened softly, and in the shadows, she could see the silhouette of a figure entering the room. Rukia felt her blood turn to ice, so petrified was she.

The figure made it halfway across the dark room until the moonlight shone in through the window and cast its bright light upon his face, causing him to stop and squint while forcing his eyes to adjust to the abrupt change in lighting. With a start, Rukia recognized the intruder as someone she had met before, and she gasped loudly.

Renji.

Indeed, it was him. There was no mistaking the long hair, the bandana, the unusual tribal tattoos on his face… But the fact that he was here right now when there had just been fighting in the yard below could only mean—

“Shhh.” Renji pressed his fingertips to her lips to silence her before she had the chance to yell or ask questions. He held them there for a moment, carefully looking her up and down. _Does he recognize me?_ she wondered. _He does remember me, right?_

However, without a word, he unexpectedly removed his hand and hurried to the window, pushing it further open and looking out. (Had he not recognized her at all?) However, before climbing through it, he appeared to hesitate.

Just as abruptly, he turned around and walked back over to her with a few large strides. Bending forward, he pressed his lips to her forehead and squeezed the small of her back with his hands, pressing her dangerously close. It all happened so fast, Rukia was unable to react, and in a few seconds it was over again. With a wink, and soft, “Farewell, my lady,” he made for the window and leaped through it into the silent darkness beyond.

Rukia teetered on her feet for another moment before falling over, fainting.

***

He never failed to find his way to the bar. No matter the city, accommodation, or mode of transportation, if there was a bar, Renji would find it. As such, even aboard the steam liner that was headed for Taipei, Renji could be found on a bar stool, hunched over a glass of scotch or whiskey.

Now more than ever, he found himself wanting to drown his troubles in the acidic substance. The fiasco in Shanghai had been a blow to his pride. He had allowed himself to grow foolishly complacent in his pursuit of the informant, and the manner in which he had betrayed his presence was plain embarrassing. How could he have slipped up and allowed the man to get away?! He was supposed to be better than that!

_And I never expected the informant to have taken refuge in the Kuchiki household …_

Thankfully, he reminded himself, he had learned from the prostitute the informant’s actual destination: Taipei. And thus he found himself aboard the steamer headed for the island of Formosa. At the bar of such a steamer, to be more specific. Wrapped up in his own musings, his gazed fixed on his drink, he appeared to take no notice of his surroundings yet was actually acutely aware of all of the ship’s goings-on.

…Except for one. Renji had failed to notice the presence of the short Japanese aristocrat, who had been restlessly meandering the hallways since she had excused herself from yet another boring dinner party. Even now, as she descended the elegant staircase to the dance floor that adjoined the bar, she found herself frantically scanning the crowd, even though she had no reason to expect to find a familiar face. The only world she knew was dining luxuriously in one of the private rooms upstairs, she grimly reminded herself.

Lord Byakuya had been unable to cease speaking of the “red-haired devil” who had assailed their residence in Shanghai, claiming that the man must certainly be after the Kuchiki family fortune and declaring that he wanted him caught promptly. His ranting had nearly driven Rukia up the wall; she still had trouble accepting the fact that the handsome stranger she had met aboard the train to Suzhou and the criminal who had attacked the Shanghai estate were one and the same. On top of that came the fact that she alone suspected the criminal’s true intent. He had not been after mere money or jewels; otherwise, he would have searched her room before escaping from it. No, he had seemed to be after some_one_. Someone specific.

And considering the fact that all the members of their party were still alive, she knew that he would probably return.

She was not sure whether to fear or look forward to the prospect of meeting him again.

He could very well be stalking them even now. _Are you there, Renji? Are you watching me right this very minute?_ she kept finding herself wondering, as though she could transmit her thoughts telepathically.

But, no, she reminded herself. There was no chance that he could be aboard this same ship right now. It would just be too strange of a coincidence. (Or destiny?)

Yet as the crowd parted to allow her passage across the dance floor, she suddenly noticed the stranger in the long coat and fedora at the end of the bar. She knew it could well be anyone—until she saw the shock of bright red hair that protruded from beneath the hat. She had only seen hair that red once before in her life. It was too unusual to be a mere coincidence.

As she slowly approached the bar, she realized she was nervous. He was so handsome—like the image of a god, powerful and omniscient. How could she, a mere mortal, approach him? … Remembering the way his hot lips had kissed her forehead, she felt her blood rise to her cheeks—and other parts of her body. It suddenly seemed to her that their previous conversations had been merely covers for a world of things unsaid, and she found herself wondering whether she had the courage to say them. For there was now no doubt in her mind that they needed to be said aloud.

And so she stood, wavering, only two feet away from him, yet gone unnoticed, for he was too consumed in his own thoughts to have sensed her presence. It was ironic—had she been the assassin instead of him, she could easily take his life, so oblivious was he to her nearness.

Finally, she turned instead to the bartender and ordered a sherry. Only when he heard the familiar voice did Renji finally look up and focus his attention on Rukia.

Rukia turned and gave him a hesitant half-smile in greeting. “Hello, stranger. Would you care to dance with the daughter of a decadent creed doomed to extinction?”

He did not utter a word as he rose and took her hand, leading her out to the dance floor, where a slow, jazzy song was just playing. Instead of chastely placing one hand on her hip and lightly grasping her fingertips with the other in accordance with the culturally acceptable manner, he immediately wrapped his forearm around her back and pressed her close, enveloping her entire hand in his. Because of her small stature, he bowed his head to bring it closer to her own, and she could smell the faint hint of tobacco in his breath.

Rukia was breathless, finding herself unable to speak, and Renji could sense her lightly shivering.

Bending down even lower so his lips were only an inch away from her ear, he whispered, “You’re as cold as ice, I want to make you melt.”

It was as though all her remaining defenses fell with the utterance of that statement. Unable to restrain herself any longer, she gave herself up to him completely, melting, as it were, into his embrace, as though she were but another extension of his being. All of a sudden, she felt that the music was not so much a force outside of them as a part of the life force that coursed through them both and joined them together.

“I am already yours,” she whispered. “I have been, since you first spoke to me.”

She never knew how cold she was inside until he bent down and pressed his lips to hers, hard and fast, as if to stifle any protest—not that she ever thought of protesting. His hot breath invaded all her senses and filled her with fire that coursed through her veins, causing her heart to beat rapidly and her breathing to become ragged. When he pulled away just as rapidly, tears welled up in her eyes, and she buried her face in his shirt.

“You know you cannot be here,” she sobbed. “Nii-sama has a bounty out on your head. If word gets out that you are here… the hunter will become the hunted.”

After a moment’s hesitation, she added, “Let’s go away. Together.”

“Where? To do what?” His voice did not betray what he was thinking, or feeling, and she did not have the courage to look up at his face to see what that would tell her.

“I don’t know. Anywhere. Away from here,” she murmured. “I know a place we can hide. If we wanted, we could sneak off the ship at the next stop, in Hong Kong. Let’s escape this life… and be free. Together.”

Chin pressed to the side of her forehead and eyes closed, Renji was deep in thought, trying to work out all the possible scenarios. Giving in to this girl would mean jeopardizing the mission, he knew, but at the same time, he was as lost in her as she was in him, and he knew he had no choice.

“Show me,” he said finally, his voice slightly hoarse.

Without another word, she pulled out of his embrace and led him to the bar, where they picked up their drinks and paid, and, after taking hold of his hand, she led him up the stairs, down a hallway, and through a door into the small cabin beyond.

***

Neither of them seemed sure of what to do next.

It appeared that they had reached a stalemate. He had removed his coat and hat upon entering and was currently lounging in an armchair sipping at his glass of scotch, watching her intently and basking, as it were, in self-assurance. She, for her part, was afraid to make the first move, fearing that she had already more than exceeded the bounds of propriety and cast into doubt by her own inexperience. She was leaning against the edge of the bed, taking occasional sips of her sherry and all the while fighting the urge to squirm under his steady gaze.

Yet still he refused to make a move, and finally she could no longer withstand the pressure. Perhaps it was the alcohol going to her head, but she knew at once that she had to act.

Rising off the edge of the bed, she slowly walked over to the armchair in which he was sitting and lowered herself into his lap. Her hands were shaking just a little as she leaned forward and brought his face to hers. Renji smiled as he answered the kiss, passion leaping through their mouths like flames, tongues soon following. When he leaned into it, she wrapped her legs around his waist and then closed her eyes to let the sensations overwhelm her.

As they continued to kiss, her hands roamed down his neck to his chest, and she began to unbutton his shirt. He looked up as she did so, forcing her to meet his eyes. His gaze was full of innuendo, daring her to go further, do more, and she eagerly accepted the challenge. Soon, the shirt was off, and she rubbed her hands all over skin of his chest, hard with muscle. Renji, unwilling to be outdone, set to work himself; her shirt was up and off in even less time, and his hands reveled in the feel of her youthful, milk-white skin.

She did not know how long they had stayed like that, hands eagerly roaming the skin of each other’s torsos as they continued to kiss; she only knew suddenly that something had changed. Lifting her gaze to meet his, she could read in his eyes the very clear command: “You. Bed.”

He held onto her as he rose, her legs still wrapped around his waist, but he let her drop to her feet rather roughly as he walked toward the bed, letting her walk the rest of the way backwards until she fell onto the bed with him looming over her, his hands moving down to her skirt as his lips grazed the skin of her neck.

Neither of them ever said a word.

***

For a while, all either of them could do was lie there, panting.

Then, finally, lifting himself up on one arm and shifting slightly so he could look down at her, he asked, “How much longer ‘til we get to Hong Kong?”

Rukia stretched and smiled warmly as she answered, “Another day and a half, at the least.”

“Perfect,” Renji grinned devilishly as he kissed her softly and then rolled himself on top of her once more.

***

She woke up the next morning to find a white orchid on the pillow beside her with a note attached. Renji was nowhere to be found. He heart quivered as she reached for the note, which turned out to only have two words inscribed on it:

“I’m sorry.”

It took her a few seconds to realize what it meant. He’d left. There would be no escaping to Hong Kong together.

She had read all about these kinds of situations in the novels she was so fond of, but somehow it had failed to register that such things could actually occur in reality. Somehow, perhaps because she was an aristocrat who was used to getting her way, she’d always taken for granted that, once she finally decided to join together with someone, it would be “happily ever after” for the two of them.

But, she now concluded, it had all been a lie, and she had been such a fool for believing it.

She didn’t even realize that she was crying.


End file.
